Join Free! | Login    
   Popular! Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry
Where Authors and Readers come together!


Featured Authors:  D. Wayne Dworsky, iMichael Charles Messineo, iPaul Ulasien, iLiana Margiva, iA. Colin Wright, iTobias Roote, iKatharine Giovanni, i

  Home > Blogs Popular: Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry     

The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

· + Follow Me
· Contact Me
· Books
· Articles
· Poetry
· News
· Stories
· Blog
· 72 Titles
· 30 Reviews
· Share with Friends!
Member Since: Aug, 2008

The Grim Reverend Steven Rage, click here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.

Blogs by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

Inside Herod's Throne Room....
8/14/2008 11:38:32 PM

Herod’s compound’s a converted steel refinery dating originally to the industrial revolution. It has been deserted forever before the vampire mayor took it over from the city, buying the entire complex and grounds for a dollar. Unlike Pilate, Herod didn’t have any hidden lairs. His crazed ego didn’t think he needed them. Herod had cops for his business needs and ex-cops for personal security. The compound was a fortress. Herod these days, rarely ventured from its safety and comfort.
The upper two floors were nothing but mammoth industrial machinery rusting to oblivion. Like the grounds outside, the interior was heavily patrolled by security. The main basement held living quarters for Herod’s men and his security force.
The Mayor’s personal chambers were two levels underground in the sub-basement. Seventeen thousand square feet, split into a dozen rooms and areas. One was Herod’s Throne Room. It was his favorite. Herod enjoyed doing very bad things in there.

In the Throne Room Herod’s brother, Philip, was chained to a cross. The cross secured to a soot-blackened brick wall. The vampire was sobbing and begging for his life. Both shoulders dislocated from the weight of his hanging body. Breathing ragged, a crown of thorns dug pits in temples, scalp, and the tips of his ears. Blood ran rivulets into his eyes. A knife stuck in his chest wall, lodged between ribs and deep in the right lung. The punctured lung collapsed. Excessive air pressure seeped out of the torn lung and compressed the heart, crushing it. Electrified clamps pinched his testicles.
Herod kept his brother from feeding for a week. The vampire was aching, crazed with hunger. Philip hyperventilated through one lung, coughed tissue from it. His eyes were wild and insane.
A huge bullmastiff sat quivering, licking his great chops, hoping for scraps.
Herod’s brother was dying fast. He’d been hanging for three days.
“No more!” Philip cried. “Herod, please, I swear – “
“One hundred joules,” Herod replied. Ovid, a big, albino motherf***er with bright orange cornrows, and more tattoos than a circus geek, upped the juice.
Philip cracked a tooth when the electricity hit. Fangs made a ragged mess of the soft flesh of his mouth. Little puffs of smoke curled acrid from his groin. His shoulders rubbed bone on bone as the poor f*** thrashed away.
“Stop,” Herod told Ovid. He stopped the flow. Herod looked impassively at Philip from his throne. The thing weighed several hundred pounds. The solid oak was gilded with gold and platinum curly-cues. The back’s six feet tall. Four clawed feet gripped gold spheres the size of grapefruit. Placed against the inside wall in the very center on a three-stepped dais. It afforded a nice view to a kill.
Philip hung on the opposite wall, above an opaque expanse of plastic sheeting. Blood, urine, all manner of foul secretions were present. Fluids sat in mini-ponds between plastic folds.
“Please, Herod,” Philip cried; flesh, blood and tooth fragments launching. “I would never stab you in the back, you gotta believe me!”
“Never,” Herod replied, “you sure about that?”
“I swear, brother, please!” he cried out.
Herod was silent a moment. Ovid stood nearby and ready. The dog growled impatiently.
Philip’s ragged breathing and Salome’s slurping ministrations were the only sounds in the cavernous Throne Room. Salome’s head bobbing to the rhythm of Herod’s fist wrapped around a big chunk of her hair. Herod looked from his brother on the cross to the young woman sucking his cock.
“Salome,” he said and pulled her mouth off him. He tugged roughly her hair. Her eyes focused, but just a bit. Plata making such sweet love to her, she did not want to come back. Salome forgot herself and grabbed the hand gripping her hair. Herod responded to her insolence by slapping her pretty face hard. She instantly dropped her hand.
“That’s my good girl,” he told her with an eye-rattling shake, got her attention. “Now, you stupid little bitch, tell me what your father here has said.”
Salome’s head would have fallen, if not held so firmly. She blinked and mumbled something, trying to go inside herself. Herod hit his niece again.
“Okay, f***,” she said, “okay.”
“What did my brother say about me?” he repeated. “Tell it to the both of us.”
“He said he’s going to place himself upon your throne. Use your dead body as his footstool.”
“What else?” Herod demanded. His face darkened, spittle spraying. “What else did he say, you f***ing cur?”
She braced for another blow. “He claimed his powers would dwarf yours,” Salome answered. “He promised to make me his queen.”
Herod stood. “You see?” he shouted and stepped down from the throne. Herod knocked Salome out of his way. “You see?” he repeated, spitting saliva as he went. His robe opened, penis protruding.
A straight razor from a robe pocket and Herod began slicing Philip’s torso, abdomen. His brother cried out, the pain a mountain. Again, Philip begged. Herod’s slashing became more concentrated and severe, mercy not forthcoming. An aerosol of dying blood sprayed Herod. He did not seem to notice.
As quickly as the tirade began, it ended. He surveyed damage. Leaned forward, ran an exploring tongue over the cuts. Herod lapped the bleeding wounds.
“Forgive me,” Philip begged. Herod licked the cuts.
“You know you did this to yourself, Philip,” he replied. Herod quit Philip’s leaking knife cuts, looked into his wild eyes. “Sorry brother, but I gotta say no. There’s no way around it, you’re gonna die.” Philip dropped his head in defeat, moaning in shameful pain.
Herod went to his throne. Philip’s adopted daughter resumed dancing for him. Her father’s agony sound-tracking the event. Herod rubbed her bare back.
“Don’t worry about Salome,” he told his brother. “Uncle Herod will take good care of her.”

Post a Comment

More Blogs by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
• FREE PHARMACIDE KINDLE HERE!! - Saturday, January 14, 2012
• The richest 1% is running out of time... - Tuesday, November 01, 2011
• from 'PHARMACIDE'!! - Saturday, September 24, 2011
• Ina gadda da-checkmyshitout - Wednesday, January 26, 2011
• feelin down and dirty, feelin kinda mean ... - Wednesday, January 26, 2011
• ALL the RAGE!! - Monday, December 13, 2010
• FREE sample and new review for 'The Place in Between' by Rev. Steven Rage - Tuesday, October 26, 2010
• The Grim Rev. Rage on LIVE Blog Radio! - Thursday, September 16, 2010
• nobody is more brilliantly repulsive than rage, September 7, 2010 - Friday, September 10, 2010
• Comment/Review - Thursday, July 01, 2010
• Comments/Review - Thursday, July 01, 2010
• I uncovered a forgotten (potential) gem in my shed!! - Saturday, March 13, 2010
• Rotten Little Animals - Saturday, March 06, 2010
• Carnageland by David Barbee - Friday, February 26, 2010
• Archelon Ranch by Garrett Cook - Wednesday, February 24, 2010
• New review for "You Morbid Westphal" - Wednesday, February 17, 2010
• Shatnerquake by Jeff Burk - Thursday, February 04, 2010
• ALL THE RAGE!! - Wednesday, December 16, 2009
• The Dope Fiend's Holy War - Wednesday, December 02, 2009
• You Morbid Westphal - Thursday, November 19, 2009
• Murderland II: Life Dring Wartime - Thursday, November 19, 2009
• Eric Mays' "Naked Metamorphosis" - Saturday, November 14, 2009
• Suicide Girls in the Afterlife - Friday, November 06, 2009
• Fistful of Feet - Friday, November 06, 2009
• A Million Versions of Right - Friday, November 06, 2009
• Is Bizarro a Movement or a Fad? - Sunday, July 12, 2009
• vivid, explicit, inventive and engrossing...with fangs on it! - Thursday, June 11, 2009
• You Morbid Westphal - Monday, March 02, 2009
• PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale - Monday, March 02, 2009
• The Pharisees make their deal with the Devil.... - Tuesday, August 26, 2008
• See the Christ. Watch as She Raises the Dead... - Sunday, August 24, 2008
• Before the cock crows thrice... - Thursday, August 21, 2008
• See the vampire's lair... - Wednesday, August 20, 2008
• PILATE saves the Christ from getting Herself beaten and raped... - Saturday, August 16, 2008
•  Inside Herod's Throne Room.... - Thursday, August 14, 2008  

• Excerpted from "PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale" - Wednesday, August 13, 2008
• More from "PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale" - Wednesday, August 13, 2008
• I wanted to see how far Steven Rage would go...and he went far! - Saturday, August 09, 2008
• New Horror Writer Tackles Controversial Subject Matter - Saturday, August 09, 2008
• Interview with Steven Rage from - Saturday, August 09, 2008